Shadows of Stone
by Agent Frostbite
Summary: After a strange call from a woman professing to be a mutant and inviting Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr over to her family house, the two men stumble into a centuries-old trap that none have escaped thus far. Will they be able to get away, or will they be taken by the crying statue in the front yard? (Rated to be safe)
1. Arrival at Mallory Lane

**A/N: IT LIVES**

 **And should've been posting a piece of this all week...whoops...**

 **So, at the beginning of the month, I had this really ambitious idea to post something every week for the spookiest month of the year. I was so excited to do it that I wrote a whole story!**

 **...and, like, nothing else.**

 **But in my defense...okay, I have none. I was playing Hypixel and scrambling with school and SATs and whatever. No excuses.**

 **I can fix it, though!**

 **Since this is a five-part fic, and it's already all written up, I've decided to do an all-day posting spree! That's right; you're gonna get all five chapters of this fic, AND I'll be hanging by my laptop (till I leave for trick-or-treating because I am a literal child) to answer any questions, accept story ideas, or just chat! So stay tuned for spooks and scares!**

 **(No, seriously, I PROMISE this Weeping Angel fic is better than my other one. Pinky promise.)**

 **Enjoy!**

 **(Also, one last side-note, this is a kind of AU where Emma kinda got adopted into the Xavier crazy clan, Erik decides NOT to be an idiot, and Charles and Erik continue their recruiting. I have another story that I will - hopefully - post in a week that sorta clarifies everything. Okay, I'm done - on you go!)**

* * *

The phone call itself had been a little strange, admittedly, but Charles wasn't known for his suspicion. That was Erik's job, and, frankly, it made them a very effective duo. That was why it was Charles _and_ Erik were both outside a Victorian-esque manor in upstate Maine. Charles, used to New York winters, was actually cold. Erik, being Erik, didn't show that he minded at all.

"Charming," Erik remarked dryly, raising an eyebrow as he scrutinized the decrepit grounds. Charles gave him friend his characteristic amused yet wearied smile and led the way in.

The grounds themselves were overrun. Weeds and vines crawled up anything higher than a foot and strangled it, the grass was tall and ragged, the iron fence was rusted and bending unnaturally, the once-intricate stone supports were crumbling, and it looked, for all appearances, that no-one had lived here in nigh on a century. "It's not a projection," Charles said, looking around. "I don't sense any mental manipulation here."

"Charles, look at that statue." Erik nodded at the graceful, mourning angel, standing in the middle of the left side of the grounds in front of the house. Erik stopped where he was, but Charles took a couple of curious steps toward it. "Don't."

"Erik, it's just a statue," Charles replied with a chuckle. "What's it going to do, eat me?"

"Don't you see it?" Charles looked back at his friend, jovial expression falling to match Erik's more concerned one. "Everything else here has been left to ruin, except that statue. Why?"

"Family heirloom? A tradition or superstition, perhaps," Charles answered matter-of-factly. Erik shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Let's just go inside, then," Charles added, placing a friendly hand on Erik's back as they both walked to the door.

They didn't notice the statue had moved just a little closer.


	2. Ethereal Voices

After 5 minutes of knocking and some gentle persuasion on Charles' part, the two men entered the house alone. "Hello?" Charles called. "Ms. Darius?" No answer. "Hmm."

The inside hallway was in far better shape than the yard, but it was still dusty and falling into disarray. Torn tapestries hung from the walls, antique end-tables lined the walls, the rug was ripped in some places and completely coated in dust. It looked like a haunted castle.

But something wasn't quite right about it. It was as if the entirety of the world was shifted off by no more than an inch, just enough to make one uncomfortable, but unable to explain _why_ they were uncomfortable. And yet, there was still no mental manipulation. The house really looked like this, there really wasn't anyone around, and Charles couldn't explain why. This, of course, made Erik very jumpy.

"Relax, my friend. I have a feeling that, aside from our caller, we are the only ones on these grounds in a very long time."

"Unless this is an extremely well-fabricated trap, in which case, we ought to turn around now." Charles stopped, and only because Erik had known him for as long as he had did Erik know the expression Charles was wearing was one of _just barely_ restrained annoyance.

"How much metal is in this room?"

"Charles-"

"How _much_?" Erik refrained from mentioning the fact that he could hear the echoes of Charles' voice inside his head and simply closed his eyes. The amount of metal he sensed was most definitely more than enough to defend themselves with, should anything pop out from behind the tapestries and attempt to kidnap or kill them. But he sensed something else, too. Some mildly off-putting feeling that certainly wasn't coming from Charles. When he opened his eyes, as much as Charles was trying to school his expression, he could tell Charles sensed it, too.

"Enough to defend us with," Erik answered shortly, not mentioning the feeling. Charles nodded.

"Right. On we go."

They made it perhaps twelve steps before Charles stopped short and paled. "Charles?" Erik asked, a note of concern in his voice. Charles didn't respond, instead standing there and slowly raising his fingers to his temple. He closed his eyes, and Erik stepped in, in case Charles ended up falling over. The telepath let out a sharp gasp and took a half-step back, almost shaking. "Charles!"

Whatever he was sensing left or let go, because he did tip to the side a little. Erik caught him, but the moment he tried to get Charles upright, he heard whatever Charles must've been hearing. A woman's voice – no, four women – all singing an ethereal, haunting melody that almost overwhelmed him. Charles managed to push Erik off, and the two of them fell to the ground. The sound left, and it seemed as if the very air was sucked from the room. "What the hell was that?!" Erik panted, frantically looking around for whoever it was.

"I have no idea," Charles answered, "but I'm beginning to wonder if you were right."

"That's a first," Erik remarked dryly. Charles shot him an annoyed look, and then stood, offering a hand to the other man. Once they were both on their feet, the door closed behind them. "I didn't do that," he said dumbly.

"Nor did I," Charles added, looking around. He cleared his throat "Best get a shift on, then."

The walked on, unease growing.

If they'd looked out the window right then, they'd have seen a bare lawn.


	3. Deeper and Darker

After almost an hour of searching the place, top to bottom, they still hadn't found any signs of anyone there. _Living_ there, yes. The kitchen was well stocked and cleaned, the bedroom closest to it was kept in good shape, there was a small room beside the bedroom whose purpose had been changed from a parlor to a small entertainment room. There was a tiny TV, a shelf of books, and a coffee table. There was actually a mug on the table, but it was empty and cold. There was no sign of the resident, a woman in her late 30s, judging by the voice they'd heard on the phone.

The uneasy feeling grew the longer they were, and by the time they'd finished searching the three inhabited rooms, both men were jumpy and almost constantly looking over their shoulders. Charles, particularly, seemed under the impression that someone or something was following them.

"There's one last place to look," Charles said, once they'd determined the rooms had no hidden rooms or tunnels. "The basement."

"If she wanted to speak with us, why isn't she here?" Erik almost demanded. "We didn't come here to play hide and seek!" The frustration that colored his tone was supposed to hide the fact that he was becoming rather spooked.

"What if whatever's trying to drive us off took her?" Charles asked. Erik scowled at the ground. "I can't leave until I _know_ for certain she's no longer here. That means we check the basement, the greenhouse, and graveyard."

"How do you know this place even _has_ a greenhouse or graveyard?" Erik's tone was now more baffled curiosity than anger or fear.

"I saw the greenhouse on the way in, and any place this old always has a graveyard," Charles replied simply, setting down the book he'd picked up. "It _is_ a rather nice book…" Erik scoffed. Then…

"Do you have a graveyard?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

They headed toward the basement in silence, listening for the tell-tale sounds of footsteps, breathing, or movement. Something to assure them that their feeling of being followed wasn't just paranoia. They heard nor saw anything.

The basement was a pile on contradictions. There were spiderwebs everywhere, yet there was no dust on the floors. There were a handful of objects that were covered by dust sheets, yet everything else was left open. There was a single light hanging from a string, and a bag full of light bulb shards and dead bulbs. The overwhelming feeling of _wrongness_ had nothing to accompany it, other than a few strange cues and off-putting things. It was all very unnerving, and Erik really only followed Charles because it was stand still and let them both get separated or back him up and stand a better chance together.

Upon removal of the dust sheets, they found an antique couch, a chandelier rested on a foam pad, and three other statues like the one in the front yard. Charles seemed far less enchanted with them this time around than he had been with the one in front. Though, to be fair, the three were creepier in the dim light than the one had been, in amongst the weeds and tall grass.

Erik replaced the dust covers once Charles had had his fill of staring at the soulless things, and the uneasy feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach lurched to life when he accidentally brushed his fingertips on one of them.

The thorough examination of the basement was ten times as frightening as the examination of the upstairs had been. The two mutants couldn't help but look over their shoulders at the statues beneath the dust sheets. It was only once they'd gone through the last corner of the room and Erik looked back did he started to realize what kind of trouble they might be in.

"Charles…" he whispered in horror. Charles turned around slowly, but saw nothing.

"What? What is it?" He had long since learned that when Erik got spooked, it was very much a good idea to accept the idea that the situation was potentially life-threatening.

"It _moved_." Charles looked between Erik and the statue. The metal-bender didn't need to see the look on his friend's face to know the telepath was now more than a little skeptic. "Charles, I am _telling you_. It moved, beneath the sheet. I know how the blanket was draped, and it's been changed."

"We're done down here anyway," Charles said, glancing between Erik – who he clearly thought was losing his mind – and the statues. "Let's go." Erik's eyes didn't leave the trio until they had to, and he was quick to lock the door behind them, something Charles was evidently unhappy with but didn't question. The two walked back to the front door, which was still locked. "Not to worry," Charles started.

"Because I can break the lock?" Erik finished. Charles gave his friend an amused smile.

"I was actually going to suggest climbing out a window, but your idea makes far more sense and is much more dignified."

"I think I'd rather see Charles Xavier attempt to climb out a window." Charles laughed, and Erik gave him a quick pat on the shoulder – and a discreet glance down the hallway – before walking to an adjacent room and, yes, actually climbing out the window. It required a little elbow grease to get the window open, and even then, it was only a little more than halfway open, which culminated in a hysterical scene of two full-grown, very serious men attempting to get through a tiny hole without getting stuck or breaking the window.

For the record, Erik still won. If there was any winning to be had, Erik had most definitely won.

Perhaps it was the hilarity of the manner in which they left the house, or maybe it was the fact that they were out of the house altogether, or perhaps it was that there were no statues in sight, but the mood brightened considerably, and Charles just _had_ to go and damper it by suggesting they try the graveyard first. "Come on, Erik. There's nothing there but dead people and gravestones, and besides, she's more likely to be there, anyway. Better places to hide."

" _I_ wouldn't hide there," Erik remarked as they strolled toward it.

"Yes, but you aren't the rest of the world."

"This feels like one of Alex's stupid horror movies…"

"Yes, I suppose it rather does. It is October, after all. The month of scaring. Actually, did you know that Halloween started as a Celtic festival?" Perhaps it was a distraction technique, but it was highly effective. Neither man noticed the gray creature staring at them from just around the corner of the house.


	4. All is Revealed

The graveyard was in the same shape as the front of the house had been. They could barely see the gravestones beneath all the weeds. The trees that surrounded the place seemed to bend over, as if leaning in to watch what happened there. But there was a clearly defined footpath, from the front of the graveyard straight to the mausoleum. After a quick glance at each other, the two men took the path and entered the building.

The stone doors ground against the marble floor, but the hinges were in such good shape that there was not a creak to be heard. At first glance, it looked completely normal. "Perhaps it's like that one cartoon with the talking dog that you and Raven like so much," Erik remarked, half-serious, half-sardonic. Charles seemed to seriously contemplate the idea, even going to the back of the building and pressing in stones, pulling on statues. No levers or buttons to be found, no secret passages to be opened. "She's not here."

Then Charles looked at the coffin. "Charles." The telepath looked up at his friend. "No. She's not in the damn coffin. Just leave it alone." Charles didn't, and upon close examination, it was found that the seal wasn't airtight. There were small openings, and so Erik reluctantly assisted Charles in removing the stone cover, expecting to see only bones.

She _was_ in there. Pale white, with midnight blue eyes that were filled with fear, shock, and sadness. "Oh, my God…" Erik breathed.

"I'm Charles Xavier, this is Erik Lehnsherr. We spoke on the phone. We're here to help you," Charles said, offering her a hand. She only looked away.

"No, no, it's not supposed to work like this…"

The familiar feeling of suspicion flared in Erik's mind, and he and Charles shared a second-long look. "What isn't?"

"They've never let anyone come _in here_ before, she whispered. "Oh…" Erik glanced out the doors, and lo and behold, there it was.

"Charles…"

The angel statue. Arms down, face blank, staring right at them. In the middle of the path where it couldn't have possibly been before.

"No!" the woman screamed in terror. "I didn't do anything! Please!"

"Erik, _watch it_ ," Charles ordered. "Don't take your eyes off it." Erik nodded, and Charles began trying to get the woman out of the coffin. She struggled a little, but eventually allowed herself to be removed. Erik glanced back at them, then looked to the statue.

It was _much_ closer now. "Son of a-"

"Run!" Charles shouted. The woman immediately went to the back of the mausoleum and pulled on what was apparently a hidden lever. The coffin itself moved aside, and she ushered them both down there before descending herself, almost getting hit in the head when the coffin swung back over the hole. She pushed past the and darted down the stairs. Neither mutant could see where they were going, and Erik almost lost his footing twice, but they made it to the bottom with no injuries.

She led them along a tunnel that also had no light, and the only way they were able to follow her was because Charles had patched into both her mind and Erik's, and was letting her lead him so he could lead Erik.

The tunnel met up with another staircase, and they quickly yet quietly ascended. The opening at the top was broken, allowing small slivers of the dwindling late afternoon light in. The woman wrapped her fingers around the crack and pushed whatever was hiding the exit out of the way. They got to the top and she replaced it completely. They were in the greenhouse.

Erik immediately took several steps away from the other two, frantically trying to look through the clouded windows and see if there were any other statues. Seeing out was impossible, so he assumed seeing in was as well. It did nothing to calm him. "What the hell _are_ those things?!" he demanded. She sunk onto a table, placing her head in her hands and staring at the floor, rubbing her eyes. Erik half-expected her to look up at them with black eyes, to don an unnatural smile, to be taken over by one of them and speak for them.

But her eyes were still midnight blue when she looked up at them, and her tangled black hair fell around her shoulders and framed her pale face in such a way that Erik was _still_ expecting a change. "This has never happened before…" she murmured.

Charles was all business now, angry and most certainly scared, but hiding the latter very well. Much better than Erik. "You're going to explain what's going on _now_ , or I'm going to get inside your head and explain it for you, understand?" It was a threat Charles was unlikely to make good on – though, who knew? He could be very unpredictable sometimes – but he didn't have to.

"They've always been here. I can remember seeing them in pictures from the earliest days of the house. They've been in my family for generations. I don't even know what they _are_." She looked at Charles. "They teleport people back in time, beyond when they should be alive today. I don't know how they do it, but they _feed_ on that energy. They tried it with me once, but I'm…"

"Immortal," Charles finished. Erik scoffed. They both looked at the Polish man, and she further explained it.

"My cells regenerate constantly. I can't die because nothing wears out. I am 240 years old now, though some of those years are double-lived. In the past, before I was even born." She smiled ruefully, and wiped at her eyes once again, though this time, she could've been wiping away a tear. "It was a pain, not being able to live in this house, but it explained a great many things. My family has always been plagued by mysterious disappearances. I even remember a man coming to the door and saying he was my Uncle Harold, but by the time I went and got Mama, he was gone. I assume they… _removed_ him."

"Why stay here?" Charles asked.

"I've no choice. They'll hunt me down if I try to leave. I can't go anywhere outside the grounds, so it's my job to draw people here for them to feast on."

What she said was bad enough but the _way_ she said it – so casually, as if it was no small thing to lure people to a living death – angered Erik to the point where his vision was rimmed with red. He didn't know how he ended up grabbing her by the collar, but he was so mad he didn't care. He also didn't care that she shrieked – possibly alerting their pursuers – or that Charles was yelling at him – telepathically, of course – to stop. "You brought us here to die?!"

"I-I'm sorry!" she exclaimed fearfully. "I-"

"You called us here so they could kill us! You took advantage of your mutation and our generosity to kill us!"

"I know!" she shouted. Perhaps she was partially telepathic, or maybe Charles was calming him down, or, possibly, it was the fact that she didn't deny or sugarcoat the accusation. "I know." He slowly released her and backed off, still seething and unsure why he was letting her go. "Believe me, I know."

"You've done it before."

"There was another man…" she murmured. "Not so long ago. I called him about my mutation, and he came, but they didn't take him. I didn't like him. He was unnerving. I think he was at least as old as me."

The image of Shaw, for some reason, flashed through Erik's mind, and he wasn't sure what he felt about that.

"I don't know what else to do," she added helplessly. "They can't kill me; I can see it in their eyes. They both love and hate me for it. Sometimes, they sing to me, though I don't know if it's to taunt me or comfort me. It more scares me than anything else." There was the sound of a twig snapping outside, and the whole room went silent. The twig snap was followed by the sound of nails quietly probing the glass, and the structure creaked. Charles looked less panicked and more contemplative, and Erik remembered back to the hallway.

Ethereal singing, four voices. One statue in the front yard, three in the basement. The Angels.

Charles pressed two fingers to his temple, and Erik looked around. There was less light now than there had been five minutes ago, a sign of the rapidly setting sun. And it was a new moon; if they were trapped in this place with the statues, they'd be in the dark. "They move the most at night, when people can't see them. They can't move if someone's looking at them," the woman whispered. It only slightly bothered Erik that he didn't know her name.

"Can you sense them, Charles?" Erik whispered. Charles face twisted into an expression of even greater concentration, and then morphed into one of horror. "Charles?" He only looked up.

There, on the roof, the barest silhouette of one of them.

 **A/N: Shoutout to anyone who can guess the cartoon.**

 **And to Bomberguy789, it's set post First Class, in an AU where Erik never left Charles dying on the beach, Hank's serum works and Charles has his legs back (because honestly, I have no idea how one would run away from the Weeping Angles in a wheelchair), sometime in the early 70s. Hope that clears things up!**


	5. Unearthly Assault

The woman screamed and Erik lashed out. The greenhouse had a frame of metal, so he took it and used it. "Close your eyes!" he warned them, and then the structure twisted and the glass came crashing down, along with the Angel. Only at the last second did Erik remember to pull his eyes open, and the sickening crack that followed shouldn't have been as sickening as it was. When he properly focused on it, he saw that its left arm broke off at the elbow and that the tip of its right wing had cracked off as well.

Charles actually _flinched_ , as if it somehow hurt him. The woman has said these thing sang, and Charles had heard the singing. Maybe they screamed, too.

There was the one to his left, the one who'd distracted them, to take care of. Staring at the one injured one, almost transfixed by the now detached arm disintegrating into a pile of dust on the floor, he fling the metal support at the Angel. At the last second, when the metal hit, he stared at it. The Angel now sported a piece of metal through its arm. Once it shifted back to whatever it was when it wasn't a statue, it'd be missing a chunk of its arm.

Charles collapsed, and the woman kept screaming. He looked at the one on the floor, but the woman was staring at it, so it stayed there. Glancing to where the one he'd just impaled stood, he saw it was gone, leaving a trail of black tinged with gold in its wake. There were none to the other two sides, so he hauled Charles up by the shoulders and looped the now-limp telepath's arm around his neck while Charles groaned, clearly in pain. He grabbed the woman's arm with his free and started dragging them back toward where the car was.

"They're coming!" she shrieked. Erik let Charles to the ground slowly and looked.

The one now missing an arm was approaching form the back, aided by her also-injured companion. The other two approached from opposite sides. Unlike the graceful creatures they had been a moment earlier, they all had claws, fangs, and the most terrifying expressions of fury Erik had ever seen in his life.

Charles was trying to pull himself together, but simply couldn't, overwhelmed by the Angel's screaming or singing or whatever they were doing to them. The woman looked between them all, shrieking and terror and begging them not to hurt her.

 _They can't move if someone's looking at them._

A plan formed in Erik's mind. He huddled close to them. "Charles, close your eyes. You, stand up and stare at them, let them get close, and duck and close your eyes when I tell you to!" he shouted. She complied, and he let the injured ones get closer, closer, within arm's reach, a little closer than that. He could see the glee in their eyes; they were going to kill these two meddlers and be done with it…

" _Now!_ "

The two dropped and squeezed their eyes shut in tandem. Erik rattled off the quickest of prayers in Hebrew; any help he could get was good help. When he opened them, Charles was groaning much more quietly, and the four Angels were standing around them, arms out, claws up…

…looking into each other's eyes.

"Oh, my God," the woman whimpered. "Oh, my God…" Erik ducked out beneath one of their extended arms, and stared at all four of them.

"Charles, can you walk?" He didn't look at the telepath.

"Ah… I think so. I've never…" He trailed off. The woman ducked away as well, taking Charles' hand and leading him out. "They're still screaming, but it's…quieter now." He stared at them, as if examining them. "They don't speak."

"How can something communicate and not speak?" Erik asked. These questions were probably better asked in the car, but curiosity has never been known for its stellar timing.

"Feelings," Charles answered simply. Now it made sense. He wasn't just hearing their screaming, wasn't just overwhelmed by their telepathic strength, he _felt_ their pain, perhaps as if it was his own. Knowing that…Erik would've done it anyway, but he'd have warned Charles a little better first.

"Let's go," the woman whispered, and the three mutants walked away from the scene, watching the Angels until they were out of sight. They all got in the car and drove away.

They passed the town to which the house was loosely connected. "I don't think I want to come with you," she spoke after the long silence from the house to the town. "I want to go out and see the world. It looks so different on television than in real life."

"Very well," Charles said. There was just the slightest tone of relief in his voice, as if Charles didn't _want_ her to come with them. Erik certainly didn't mind her staying well away from them.

They parked the car and wished her well. She waved goodbye, then rubbed her eye as she turned around. The action seemed to discomfort Charles, and he narrowed his eyes, a habit picked up from Emma when discreetly using his telepathy. The woman paused for a moment, and Charles released his grip on her. He seemed a little too quick to get into the car after that.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked as they put on their seatbelts. They drove by her, and Erik glanced at her as they passed. He almost thought her eyes looked a little lighter. Maybe it was just the streetlight. "Charles?"

"I'm wondering if we should've let her go," he murmured. "I think…I _thought_ I felt… No, never mind."

"Felt what?" Erik asked, and his tone was starting to slip into grave panic. "Charles, what did you sense?"

"I thought I felt something else in her mind, another entity…one of _them_."

The car ride home was uncomfortably silent.

 **A/N: And that's it for this story! Hope it was scary enough for your liking. As always, thanks for the reads, favorites, follows, and reviews, and I hope you have a spook-tacular Halloween!**


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